Old friends
by Sandstone
Summary: [oneshot] Sometimes, it is our oldest friends that know us better than we know ourselves. Aribeth learns this when she calls on the aid of an old friend to help with the Wailing Death...


"Then you leave me no choice. If you do not arrive at the hall of justice in one week's time, I will be forced to conscript you. Wanted posters will be placed all over Neverwinter, and when you're found, you will be placed within the goal for a long time."

The woman opposite the elven cleric smirked, as her face wavered… and then became elven, before becoming that of a half-orc's, then back to half-elven. "Nice threat. I came here as a favor to Aribeth, but she knows exactly what my debt is… or rather, was. It was repaid when I in turned saved her during that ambush when otherwise, she would have died."

The elf started to tremble in shock – Aribeth had told her the woman, for all her faults (like being a warlock for one), was a good person at heart, if rough at the edges. The… thing before him was nothing like the kindhearted being Aribeth had described. The 'half elven' woman said mildly as she walked toward the exit, "I would have helped you, had you not pressed the issue, and attempted to forcefully recruit me. And don't threaten me about Neverwinter coming after me, I know exactly how you are hurting from the wailing, you can't even maintain order in every district except your precious 'Blacklakers'. Neverwinter makes me sick. The rank greed and corruption makes my inner demon smile… and this is supposed to be a place where law, order, and good are prevalent. Yet instead, I find rampant corruption… and even a man of god threatens me. Tell Aribeth my debt is repaid, and if she wishes to speak to me, she knows how to contact me. I won't aid your city any further."

Fenthic attempted to call on the magic of Tyr to restrain the woman, but before he could, she vanished with the characteristic flash of a teleport spell. The elf stared at where she had been, even as Aribeth, weary and bloodstained, entered the room, and asked, "Fenthic, where is Anah? I wanted to thank her."

Fenthic turned to Aribeth, and said, "She… she's gone. I… tried to recruit her to help recover the Waterdavian creatures…" Fenthic stopped in shock when he saw Aribeth's eyes narrow, and the paladin asked in a frosty tone he had never heard before, "Fenthic, on all that is holy, please tell me you did not try to conscript her or force her!"

Fenthic stared in shock, his lack of answer enough for the elven paladin, who did something that utterly shocked him – she swore, and with her free hand, slapped him. With her mailed hand. The cleric put a hand to his cheek, even as Aribeth shouted at him, "Fenthic! I told you about her! She will never be coerced or controlled! Why did you have to go and do that… she was our best hope of finding the Waterdavian creatures without a mass panic…" Aribeth's voice became quieter, as she said, "The Wailing has taken a heavy toll on us… but you threatened someone I have known for longer than I have you, and drove away Neverwinter's best hope for dealing with this quietly. Fenthic… this pains me… we are no longer lovers. This… I cannot love you… not anymore… not after all that has happened. Your support for Dester… your never apologizing to me… and now this… it is over. Maybe I never did love you… I do not wish to speak to you again." With that, the paladin walked out, clutching an amulet that was hung around her neck, engraved into it was a dove, though the wings of the dove were misshapen, almost demonic in origin. Holding it tightly with a hand, she said into it, "Anah?" When there was no response, Aribeth said quietly, "Anah, please. My friend, please… for the sake of our friendship…"

A 'voice' replied in Aribeth's mind, "Ari… that boy of yours is an imbecile. Meet me at the many starred cloak enclave, as fast as you can."

Aribeth's eyes widened, and she activated her stone of recall, dashing out of the hall of justice and for the Many Starred Cloak enclave, which was an old clocktower. Inside, she saw the familiar and favored form of Anah Signe, a half elven woman who had a quiet light to her. The woman was not actually half-elven… actually, she had been human, before things had happened, a long time ago. She was immortal now, comparable to a half demon, but entirely different at the same time. A Succubus had been magically fused with her, creating a warlock of rather startling power. When her family had been slaughtered, Anah had been a pillar of support, as she had been a regular at a nearby inn, and had befriended her family… she shoved aside the memories, and embraced her old friend, tears leaking out of her eyes. "Anah… I'm sorry about Fenthic… he's a fool, I realize it now."

Anah embraced the paladin in return, but broke the embrace swiftly, and said, "Please Ari, follow me. You won't like this, but you need to know." With that, the Warlock led the paladin into the clocktower, and took a seat at a table with a guild member who was sitting with a strange contraption on the table. Aribeth took a seat at the table as well, and Anah said, "Ari, this is Sarah. I called in a big favor for this, so listen to what she says. And she's above reproach, I'd know if she was lying to me."

The mage, a human woman who looked to be getting on in years, nodded politely to Aribeth, and said mildly, "Now that she is here, I will explain. I've been analyzing the Wailing Death, and been puzzled by the spread of it… until Anah's mind put me on track to something. The Blacklake district is too has plague, yet there is no way a plague-bearer could get in with all the barricades about the district… and the disease doesn't seem to spread predictably. Finally, I pinned it down." The old woman produced a small vial of water, something Aribeth guessed was holy water. "Holy water?"

Anah shook her head, and said, "Actually… close. The stuff the Helmites are using for blessings. Watch Ari, this is important."

The mage placed the vial on top of the device, and the vial, and the contents, disintegrated. Aribeth's eyes were curious, until the device started to make a strange series of noises, and then produced a sheet of parchment. The mage handed it to Aribeth, who looked it over, before gasping.

Written on the parchment was, 'Contents: Water, and compound. Analyzing compound… compound identified as the disease 'Wailing Death'.'

"No… the Helmites? But… why would Helm…"

The old mage stood, and said, "Your debt that the Many Starred Cloak owe is considered to be increased in value, Anah, should this be true, and we are praised as the ones who helped uncover the deception."

Anah nodded, and said, "Indeed you shall. I will be nameless in return."

The old mage smiled, and walked away, leaving the two women at the table, Aribeth finally whispering, "Fenthic… did he betray us?"

Anah said in response, "I don't know, Ari. I've always believed he was wrong for you; the elf simply is too innocent, too quick to trust… and you still are rather the opposite of those things, even now. He most likely is a pawn. Dester, on the other hand, I will enjoy gutting myself. I popped over to Helm's Hold, the place reeks of demons and demonic taint."

Aribeth nodded slowly, before saying quietly, "I trust you Anah, but Lord Nasher is not quick to trust. Fenthic will support Dester, and Dester has been undermining me the whole time he has been in Neverwinter."

Anah sighed, before saying quietly, "Then it's simple. Dester's too powerful to be affected by a Zone of Truth spell, he could throw it off or dispel it. I'm going to take the simple way out."

Aribeth thought for a moment, before she sighed sadly. Anah was going to kill dozens of men… and she was going to implicitly agree to the murders. Even if they were justified… "That might make things worse, Anah."

Anah smiled in a way that Aribeth recognized, and the paladin had a feeling things might just work out after all, as she said, "Trust me, Ari. I know how to make things look bad for them."

&&&&&

Lord Nasher roared, "Dester, explain yourself NOW!"

Dester remained silent, his sharp tongue and quick wit unable to defend what had been happening. His false Helmite priests were being framed for impossible things, yet it was impossible to prove otherwise. A well respected noble had died in his manor with a knife to his throat, and a Helmite priest had been slain by the guards. The prison riot had been squashed by some force that literally tore through the convicts like paper, and more of his false Helmite priests had been found among the slain, while the convicts wore arms and armor that bore the crest of Helm. There was hardly a priest on the streets, and none of their blessings were taken… in fact, the people had turned against the priests. Numerous cases of disturbing, disgusting, or brutal events had been 'caused' by his brethren, but he simply could not prove they had been framed. "I… cannot."

Aribeth, who had become more smug as his plans unraveled, said, "Lord, I suspect that the Helmites might not be… aiding us as they so claimed. What hope they claimed to offer has caused riots among the people, and numerous clerics and priests of their faith have… I need not say, my lord."

Dester, sweating, hoped that the fool would aid him, but the elf was silent, looking at the floor. "I… Dester's people have caused further trouble in our land, Lord Nasher. I leave what to do in your hands."

Dester sweated nervously, until Nasher said, "Dester… your people are no longer welcome in Neverwinter. Leave our city, I will instruct the guards that no Helmite will be welcome in our city, and will be able to leave the city."

The man nodded, making a remark as he left, but he was defeated, it had no purpose. As he made for his stateroom, he saw a surprising sight… a half elven woman was standing in the hallway, gazing at him with a glare, wearing a strange leather outfit he did not recognize. "Dester, of the false Helmites. I just wished to inform you that you have a devil thirsting for revenge, and a pissed off god and his avatar after you and your fellows."

Dester stumbled, and asked fearfully, "Did Maugrim send you?"

The woman shook her head, and said, "Hmm? No. I represent myself, though they were quite eager to accept my offer of being free to kill your followers for your dare, while Helm was… most surprised to find that a demon was willing to work with his own avatar to hunt down those who would seek to disguise themselves at Helm's worshipers."

Dester swallowed, before his eyes lit up in realization, and he said accusingly, "YOU! You have done this!" The cleric hoped that the Zone of Truth would affect the woman, and force her to confess, and he would be free to destroy Neverwinter from within, and get his revenge.

The woman, however, ruined his plans with a casual, "You must be confused, poor man. I am merely a messenger... and your executioner." With that, the half elf changed into a familiar demonic form, and Dester, panicking, cast a Banish spell at it, only for the spell to do nothing except cause the demon to laugh. "Pitiful mortal. I have agreed to return to my plane upon the deaths of you, your superiors… when your entire pathetic cult has died. I even have free reign to harvest your souls, so long as I do not slay those who are not in your cult… a rare deal, from Helm and that bitch. Now give me your soul!"

The dying scream and demonic laughter sounded through the hallways, but by the time the guards arrived, Dester was nowhere to be found, except for several incriminating notes found within his stateroom.

Aribeth walked out of the palace, and entered a tavern, sitting beside a familiar half-elven warlock. "It is done… I feel… tainted…"

"Ari, talk to a cleric of Tyr, and get them to let you speak to Tyr freely. He is a god of justice, not condemnation. What you did was not true justice… but you preserved so many lives, and saved an entire city that views him as their primary god." Anah smiled gently at the elven paladin, and continued, "Tyr himself saved you when I could not. Your god loves you Ari, to go to such an extreme as to visiting you in dreams and sending an avatar after you. He will understand."

Aribeth slowly nodded her head, even as she drank the strong wine that had been left out for her. The Wailing Death was over… and divine, infernal, and mortal means were rooting out the cause of their attack. From what she understood, even the demons and devils did not like what had happened in Neverwinter, though she didn't want to know how Anah managed to deal with such beings. Rather, she said quietly, "To old friends, who know us better than we know ourselves."

Anah toasted in response, "To those who watch over us, and guide us with the love of a family."

The two sipped at their wine, Aribeth coming to peace with what had happened. Fenthic… Anah had known her better than she knew, Fenthic was not her love, he was simply wrong for her…

Aribeth looked over at the 'half elf', who was sipping at the strong wine without a care, and then took a deep drink from the glass.

To those who love us, without us ever realizing, waiting forever if need be for the love to be returned.


End file.
